I had another gig (read: played at church again) but this time with a twist: I played with another cello. I had never done a cello duet before. Although cellos are not particularly rare, finding someone who played one and actually wanted to play with me was a bit like discovering blueberry streusel bread at Target: unexpected, untried and ultimately something I’m glad I didn’t miss out on.
The first time I met John was at potluck. I didn’t really pay him any mind as I was too busy on a voyage of discovery around my plate (a good potluck rule of thumb: Try a little bit of everything, you never know what’s going to end up tasting good (and is it just me, or does the weirdest-looking dish on the table always end up tasting the best?)). My head did jerk up from my plate though when I heard someone say: “He’s a wonderful cellist.”
Well, Come Go Down t’Africa! (the mnemonic my cello teacher used to teach me the string names, which now strikes me as odd. Why not Argentina? Or Antarctica? Or Australia– its very nickname is the land down under. But anyway—>) That very morning, someone had asked me to play the cello for church. I don’t believe in coincidence (or performing solo when I don’t have to), so I asked him to play.
I’m glad I did. The tone he gets from his cello sounds like it is dipped in butter and plated in silver while a thousand fluffy baby bunnies caper about in riotous joy (I am closer than you think with this metaphor: two of his strings are gut strings. And while PETA is probably going to throw a fit, gut strings do sound better). It also doesn’t hurt that his cello was made in 1892. Just touching it almost triggered an existential crisis.
The guy can play harmony using notes so gymastic it would make Nadia Comaneci jealous. And he does it by ear. I must admit I felt a bit of trepidation at the thought of playing with him, but he put me completely at ease and gave me really good tips, like better angles to use when playing on certain strings, how to hold my bow correctly and a good cello book to buy.
During the performance I felt fairly comfortable and I think I was actually breathing regularly. It sounds odd, but I felt less pressure playing with another cellist. I look forward to doing it again (or, if you’re fob, “duetting” again – hur, hur, hur.)
(*Celli is probably pronounced cheh-lee rather than chel-lie, but whatever. )
Jammie Karlman is the entertainment editor for the Chico Enterprise-Record. Contact her at buzz@chicoer.com. Follow her on Twitter @JammieKarlman
I’m sure your fat cello duet was very near and dear to you, taba.
Stoopy poopy, I know you would like to do a duet with someone, too, but there’s not enough room on the stage for the both of you. ;P